Seraphina's lungs burned as she crashed through the writhing undergrowth, her boots sinking into soil that pulsed like living flesh. The golden sap splattered across her arms seared through her skin, etching glowing trails where it touched. Each drop hissed as it burrowed deeper, whispering secrets in a language that slithered behind her eyes.
—the boy with Riven's smile, drowning in black water—
—a woman with bark for skin screaming as roots burst from her mouth—
—the First Hunger, not yet twisted, weeping silver tears into an endless dark—
She stumbled, her vision swimming with memories that weren't hers. The forest around her breathed in time with her panicked heartbeat, silver trees bending to watch her flight. Their branches dripped liquid gold, creating a shimmering curtain that distorted the path ahead.
A root lashed around her ankle.
Seraphina hit the ground hard, her mouth filling with the taste of copper and something sweetly rotten. The root tightened, its barbed surface shredding her boot leather as it dragged her backwards. She twisted, fingers clawing at the earth, and came face to face with a nightmare.
The Watcher stood over her, but it was no longer wearing Riven's brother's face.
Its features melted like wax, reforming into her mother—the same crooked nose, the same scar above her eyebrow from the bandit attack years ago. When it spoke, the voice was perfect. "Why do you run, little bird?" it cooed, tilting its head exactly as Mother used to. "Don't you miss me?"
Seraphina's breath hitched. The root around her ankle squeezed tighter, drawing blood that dripped onto the hungry earth.
Then—
A sound like a thousand mirrors shattering.
The Watcher's head snapped up just as Riven exploded from the trees, his body wreathed in gold and black flames. The mark on his chest had split open like a fruit, revealing pulsating light within. His eyes were gone—only fire remained.
"You don't touch her," he growled, and the Grove itself trembled at the sound.
The Watcher smiled with Mother's lips. "Oh, Riven," it sighed. "You always did break the prettiest toys."
Then the ground opened beneath them all.
The golden sap burned like liquid fire as it seeped into Seraphina's wounds. She could feel the memories forcing their way into her mind, each one carving itself behind her eyes with razor-sharp clarity.
—A younger Riven, no more than twelve, pressing his forehead against his brother's as they swore an oath in the dark—
—That same brother, years later, screaming as black roots forced themselves down his throat—
—Lysandra, in the moment before her transformation, whispers, "I'm sorry" to someone long dead—
"Get out of my head!" Seraphina gasped, clawing at her temples. The visions fractured like broken glass, but the whispers remained, slithering through her thoughts like snakes.
The Watcher chuckled, its stolen face twisting into a mockery of her mother's smile. "The Grove remembers everything, little bird. Every death. Every betrayal." It crouched before her, roots creaking. "Would you like to see how your mother died?"
Before she could answer, the forest exploded.
Riven crashed through the trees like a falling star, wreathed in flames that danced between gold and deepest black. His bare feet left scorched footprints in the writhing earth, the mark on his chest now a gaping wound of pulsating light. When he spoke, his voice was layered with something ancient.
"You. Don't. Touch. Her."
The Watcher's smile faltered. It straightened slowly, roots coiling defensively. "Look at you," it mused, circling them both. "The corruption and the cure, burning together. How poetic." Its voice dropped to a whisper. "Do you think she'll still love you when she sees what you're becoming?"
Riven's flaming hands clenched. "Seraphina, close your eyes."
"Why?" she breathed, struggling against the root still holding her ankle captive.
"Because I don't want you to see this."
The Watcher laughed—a sound like breaking bones. "Oh, she needs to see! Show her your true face, Riven! Show her the monster the seed planted!"
With a roar that shook the trees, Riven moved.
One moment, he stood before them. Next, his burning hands were buried in the Watcher's chest, tearing through root and rot and memory. The creature shrieked, its stolen face melting like wax as it scrambled backwards.
"You're right," Riven growled, advancing. Flames licked up his arms, blackening his skin without consuming it. "I am becoming something else." He grabbed the Watcher by what remained of its throat. "But I'm your monster now."
The snap of breaking roots echoed through the grove as the Watcher came apart in his hands.
Seraphina finally wrenched her ankle free, scrambling to her feet. "Riven, stop! We need it to—"
The ground beneath them gave way.
As they fell into the waiting dark, the Watcher's laughter followed them down:
"Welcome home."